


It Takes Two

by tumble4rpdr



Category: RuPaul's Drag Race RPF
Genre: Body swap fic, M/M, Quarantine Fic (kind of)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-23
Updated: 2020-04-23
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:07:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23811313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tumble4rpdr/pseuds/tumble4rpdr
Summary: Brock and Jose are over each other, or at least that’s what they keep telling themselves. But what if the universe has other plans and one day things are not what they seem? Do they realize how wrong they are for each other or is fate telling them that they’re meant to be?
Relationships: Brooke Lynn Hytes/Vanessa Vanjie Mateo
Comments: 10
Kudos: 37





	It Takes Two

**Author's Note:**

> I think this might be my longest one-shot and it’s an idea that I’ve been thinking about for a while. It’s also my first attempt at writing smut and writing something with this strange point of view. For context, this is supposed to take place around the beginning to middle of March, so B was still in her Nashville apartment and V was still in her Vegas apartment. Thank you to everyone who reads and comments on this and I hope you all enjoy this weird fic💜

Jose’s brain rises before his eyelids as he lets out a gentle, sleep-heavy yawn, keeping his eyes pressed shut as if trying to lull his body back into a dream. Mornings usually find him snug and warm like a ball of yarn, knees pressed to his chest and his head sinking deeper and deeper into a pillow as soft as a marshmallow, but today something’s different. His limbs are suddenly too long for his body and are not snuggled tightly against him but instead poke out of the covers as his feet nearly touch the edge of the mattress. He feels like a marionette with its strings cut as he moves to stretch and his legs feel as prickly as freshly cut grass as he rubs them against each other. 

Jose tries to burrow further into his pillow but is met with stiffness instead of softness, his cheek laying on what feels like granite wrapped in a pillowcase that smells of vanilla, tobacco, and traces of the man that never quite leaves his mind. Jose’s large hand rubs his cheek, feeling a coarse beard that he knows his boyish face could never grow so fast, not even if he went days without shaving. The thick facial hair, like the scent and the rest of his surroundings feel oddly, yet comfortingly familiar, like a past he’s been wishing was the present. 

Jose remembers waking up in a bed like this, remembers when the stubble now tickling his fingertips was felt against his neck and his chest and his thighs. His fingers creep from the beard to touch lips, lips as soft and full as clouds that when he kissed them he felt like he had drifted into the sky. With his mind enveloped in an alluring warmth and lips now encasing two digits, Jose’s other hand glides down abs and moves to grasp himself. As his fingers go to clutch the hardness, he is immediately yanked out of his fantasy, as if being thrown in a pool of cold water, and his eyes shoot open. 

He scrambles out of bed with the coordination of an octopus attempting to walk on land and tries to find a mirror in his new but known surroundings. Jose feels like he’s perched atop stilts, as if he’s wearing a pair of heels higher than anyone can imagine, as he finally makes his way to the bathroom. He turns on the light to look at himself and instead sees the face that he’s longed to see stare back at him but definitely not like this: Brock.

————

Brock wakes up in a bed that’s much too soft for his liking. He feels himself drowning in a sea of down and duvets as he tosses and turns trying to adjust to the discomfort. He finds that his body seems unusually small as he’s nestled tightly against himself, hardly taking up any space on the vast mattress. He struggles to stretch his suddenly shorter limbs out from the heavy blankets, trying to break out of the heat, but his body remains wrapped in a feverish prison. 

As he surrenders and melts back into the pillow, Brock is reminded of the last time he was in a bed like this. When the warmth he felt envelope him was anything but overbearing as it radiated off the tender, beautiful man snuggled up lovingly against him. It always seemed to feel as though they were cuddling in quicksand but back then Brock never wanted to escape.

He draws his feet back under the covers and feels an unusual, though much remembered, smoothness as his foot brushes up his calf. He thinks of Jose’s legs, like the softest rose petals as his hands danced up them whenever Brock was on his knees. Jose’s thick thighs, like delicious warm caramel, wrapped around his middle as he took him against a hotel door when they were too worked up to wait. Brock moves a hand down his chest, which is now hairless, and remembers Jose’s body beneath him, skin like satin sheets wherever he caressed. 

While still caught up in reminiscing, Brock reaches a hand further down to begin stroking himself. As his fingers move to grasp around the stiffness, Brock awakens with a panicked gasp as if his brain was given an electric shock. He hurries to get out of bed and stumbles as his feet no longer reach the ground from the height of the bed. Brock feels too compact, like an accordion pushed in on itself, and his breathing picks up as he frantically searches for a mirror. He makes his way to the bathroom and goes to look at himself, wishing he had a step stool so that he could get a full view. With the light on, Brock looks at his reflection and sees a face that has appeared many times in his dreams, one that he never thought he’d get to see like this again: Jose.

————

Jose continues to stare at himself in disbelief, his fingertips moving to touch the mirror to confirm that the man looking back at him is actually himself. He moves back to fully take in what has happened, still slightly wobbly on such long legs, like a fawn trying to walk on ice. Brock’s height is still jarring to Jose’s usual compact frame, as is his pale skin and bushy eyebrows, brows that Jose had fondly compared to squirrel tails on more than one occasion. 

He runs his hands through Brock’s messy curls in a futile attempt to tame them, when his mind flashes to Brock’s sleepy head resting on his lap as his fingers gently scratched through his blonde hair. Jose’s hands immediately drop from his head and he goes to take off his shirt, putting Brock’s hairy chest and toned stomach on full display. Jose unconsciously licks his now plush lips as he watches his fingers trail across a body that he hasn’t seen in person in much too long. 

“Shit,” Jose mutters to himself in a voice softer than any sound that has come out of his mouth. He gasps and covers his mouth, as Brock’s quiet tone fills the small bathroom. Jose looks deeply into Brock’s stormy grey eyes and says his own name, yearning to hear it cross Brock’s lips. “Jose,” he speaks again as he watches Brock’s eyes brighten in his reflection.

He starts back to Brock’s room, saying and slightly moaning, his own name along the way. Jose gets on his tiptoes as he makes his way back into Brock’s bedroom, finally giving in to the graceful ballerina fantasy that he could only live in Brock’s body. As his bare feet cross over the wood flooring he attempts a twirl, raising his arms above himself and moving to spin on Brock’s questionable though dancerly toes. Jose loses his balance and his lengthy arms knock into the lighting fixture above him as he tumbles over a ball of fuzz that made its way around his ankles before he could realize. From his place on the floor, Jose sees Henry innocently stare at him before remembering that he has to be a good cat dad and take care of Brock’s children, knowing that Brock will do the same for his baby. 

He scoops up Henry and goes to take him to the kitchen but not before grabbing Brock’s phone and a hoodie from his closet. He easily finds the cat food, remembering where it was from the last time he was here, and feeds Henry and Apollo, who makes his way into the kitchen upon hearing noise and the promise of breakfast. Jose takes the hoodie he had placed on a kitchen chair and pulls it over his head, noting how the pullover fits securely instead of engulfing his smaller frame. Jose recalls how much he loved stealing Brock’s sweatshirts when they were dating and how he sometimes wishes he still had one; the oversized pullover enveloping him in warmth and comfort and making him feel as though he’s wrapped in Brock’s arms.

Jose glances over to make sure the cats are eating then looks up at the refrigerator. He walks closer and sees a row of black and white photo booth pictures of him and Brock on full display. He removes them from under the magnet to get a closer look and is reminded of the day they were taken. It was one of the first times Brock had come to visit him in L.A. and they had gone for a date at the pier. Jose remembers the heat of the sun’s rays on his skin and the heat of Brock’s hidden kisses on his lips. He remembers how cramped the photo booth was for the two of them and how Brock had pulled him into his lap and held him with strong, secure hands that Jose wished would never let him go. 

His mind briefly flits to the thought of him and Brock meeting up again when he gets to Los Angeles, the boxes around the apartment a sign that he’s finally going through with the move. Jose shakes his head to clear his mind before his nostalgia goes too far. With the quarantine who knows when Brock will actually move and when he does there’s no guarantee that he would want to see him. Jose reminds himself once again that it’s better this way, for both of them, and that friendship is all that Brock wants.

After hanging the pictures back up, Jose goes to Brock’s living room with the cats following close behind him. With Apollo at his feet and Henry in his lap, Jose takes Brock’s phone out of his pocket to contact him and figure out what to do. He swipes up on Brock’s phone only to find that his technologically unsavvy ex still has a passcode that Jose now needs to figure out. He makes a few attempts, using Brock’s birthday and even Steve’s but to no avail. His final attempt is his own birthday, thinking back on how bashful and cute Brock got when Jose had once asked him for his password. He types in 1003 without much confidence and immediately Brock’s home screen appears to Jose’s surprise.

Jose’s heart feels full and his cheeks feel warm and he knows he must be blushing. He immediately taps open the camera app in order to see the pink dusting Brock’s cheeks and the sparkle in his eyes. He remembers the look of humble but genuine joy on Brock’s face when he earned a good critique or heard a large audience’s applause or whenever Jose told him how handsome and special and loved he was. A flattered Brock is still one of Jose’s favorite things to see and having him right in front of him made his cheeks flush even more.

Jose goes to start typing out a message to Brock, since texts have recently become their main form of communication. He grins as bright as the glitter he paints himself with when he sees the emojis that still adorn his name. Before clicking open their conversation, curiosity gets the better of him and he scrolls through Brock’s other texts. Naturally, he sees messages between Brock and Steve and Brock and Courtney, as well as messages from other friends and family and designers that make up Brock’s life. It’s when he scrolls further though that his smile begins to fade, as he notices messages between Brock and guys that he never knew of when he and Brock were together. The more texts he sees between Brock and Seth and Adam and Matt, the less comforting his emojis become. 

He quickly swipes off the messages and goes to place the phone down but an app catches his eye. There in a folder labeled Entertainment sat the Grindr app and like a moth to a flame Jose couldn’t stop himself from being pulled towards it and tapping it open. He desperately searches the app, looking for anything that proves he’s not a fool, that his desires aren’t just one-sided pinning, that the pictures and the passcode and the memories mean something. What he finds are a list of messages just like his texts, between Brock and other men, some dated as recently as a few weeks ago.

Jose suddenly feels like a ballon that’s been popped, as if the small flame that he kept lit in his heart for Brock had suddenly been blown out and Jose only had himself to blame. That must be the reason that they were put in each other’s bodies, so that Jose could finally learn how Brock truly feels about him. He knows his anger and disappointment are unfounded but that realization does nothing to stop the feelings, like electricity, coursing through his veins and shocking his system.

He grabs for the phone one last time and FaceTimes his own number. It’s about time they saw each other face to face, or whoever’s face they’ll be looking at, and finally stop avoiding their issues.

————

Brock is in complete shock as he gapes at himself in the mirror. He pinches himself thinking that the flash of pain might wake him up but he quickly realizes that he’s not in a dream. He sighs as he rubs his hands over his face and through Jose’s still slightly gelled hair. It was Jose’s loud, confident demeanor that drew Brock in first, his mischievous smile and the glint in his eyes that made Jose and the tiny package he came in so alluring. Without Jose’s bravado, Brock feels like a teddy bear, too petite and soft and cute, and is so unsure of how to carry himself without his ballet build.

For a second, Brock wants to grab a pair of heels from Jose’s closet in an attempt to feel more comfortable, but then remembers that he’s in his Vegas apartment and all of Jose’s drag is locked away in his dressing room at the Flamingo. Brock internally curses as he goes back to Jose’s closet to see if there’s anything in there to help him.

Inside Jose’s closet hangs a full length mirror which, to Brock’s surprise, he can see his full body in for the first time. While there are no heels he can use to feel more like himself, he does find sweats, a T-shirt, and one of Jose’s cozy beanies which is the closet thing in Jose’s wardrobe to anything he would wear. As he moves to take off his clothes, more and more of Jose’s flawless olive skin comes into view, until Brock is left looking at a reflection of Jose in nothing but tight briefs. 

Brock gazes at himself tentatively, knowing that he hasn’t seen Jose’s body like this in far too long, and is unsure if he has earned the right to see it again. Before he can help himself, he turns to look at Jose’s ass in the mirror, and sees that it’s still just as he remembers it. A deep moan escapes Brock’s lips and he unexpectedly hears Jose’s familiar raspy growl. He gasps at the noise that has been the soundtrack to many of his fantasies before squeezing his eyes tightly shut and taking some deep breaths.

He quickly slips on Jose’s clothes and looks at himself once again now that his body is fully covered. Though they would often fall asleep naked, limbs like vines crawling up and entwining each other’s bodies, Brock treasured the times when Jose was in sleepwear, the relaxed, unkempt version of him that only Brock had the privilege to see. He remembers a night when Jose threw on his shirt by mistake, the oversized material further accentuating Jose’s delicateness and Brock smiles fondly at the thought.

With his mind still shrouded in the haze that only thoughts of Jose can produce, Brock takes the time to look around the room, as if on a scavenger hunt for pieces of the man he often wishes was still his. Jose’s jewelry case sits on the dresser and Brock goes to look through it, running his fingers over the thick metal chains and diamond and dangling earrings.

Before closing the lid on the box, Brock spots in its own pocket the Toes necklace that he gifted Jose for his birthday and wonders why he brought it with him to Vegas. He slowly traces the cursive letters, regretting that Jose hardly got the chance to show off the gift that Brock had put so much thought behind before everything that they had was over. Brock picks up the necklace and fastens the clasp around his neck, his mind brought back to when his own hands put the necklace on Jose for the first time. He remembers his hands caressing down Jose’s back and how Jose turned to face him with a look of pure adoration, a look that Brock had never seen directed at him before and likely will never see again. But Jose deserves so much more than he can give, Brock reminds himself, so it’s better to leave things as they are.

A faint meow pulls Brock from his thoughts as he looks down to see a tiny bundle of fluff cuddling up against his feet. He instantly lifts the kitten into his arms and nuzzles against its fur, knowing from the pictures Jose sent him that he’s finally getting to meet Thackery. Brock cradles Jose’s baby in his arms before grabbing his phone from its charger and heading to the kitchen. On his way there he sees the cat climber he recommended for Thackery and feels a sense of pride that Jose looked to him for guidance and actually took his advice. He hugs Thackery tighter as he is reminded of his own babies back in Nashville but he knows Jose will do everything he can to look after them.

After feeding Thackery, Brock finds himself and the kitten stretched out on Jose’s plush living room carpet playing together. Once Thackery gets bored and wonders off on his own, Brock sits up against the couch and takes Jose’s phone out of his pocket. After his new face unlocks it, Brock is met with the digital representation of Jose and he can’t help but explore. He swipes over to the page after the home screen and sees Grindr in the top right corner. Brock feels his chest ache as his fragile tissue paper heart is abruptly and unmercifully ripped, but he once again steels himself, telling himself that Jose has every right to move on whether or not he’s happy about it.

He switches over to the photos app where he is met with picture after picture of Jose with other men, some he recognizes as his dancers and friends, others he has never seen before. After a picture of Jose with another man’s arms wound tightly around him, Brock knows he has seen enough. Jose is over him and is too kind to flaunt it. Brock must have been put into Jose’s body to finally see the truth and to finally recognize where they stand.

Brock’s finger does a hard, bitter swipe through Jose’s photos once more and is brought to a picture of him and Jose from DXP, one of the many Brock had assumed were deleted. He immediately swipes through Jose’s albums before getting to a collection simply labeled **B** 🧡. As he taps it open Brock is hit with hundreds of pictures of him and Jose, some in drag but most as just themselves. He scrolls down further to see photos of himself he has never seen before, of him eating and sleeping and laughing.

Brock can feel the flowers in his chest starting to bloom, Jose’s preserved memories, and Brock hopes preserved love, like the sunlight needed to nurture them. Brock’s gazing at a picture of him and Jose when his own name and face appears on his screen and he automatically hits accept.

————

Brock answers the FaceTime call and he and Jose stare at each other in silence, the intensity of their emotions momentarily melting away as they are both taken aback looking at themselves from the outside for the first time. After the initial shock, Brock watches his own face harden as Jose is the first one to speak.

“Hey bitch, your big Canadian ass done hogging my body, cause I might need it back,” Jose begins, his tone sharp and guarded.

“I’m surprised my big Canadian ass could fit in your body,” Brock replies with a smirk, hoping his playful shade will lighten the sour mood Jose is clearly in.

“Don’t you try and be cute with me Mary,” Jose answers just as intensely. “I ain’t trying to get reattached, I’m just trying to help us get our shit together and make this wrong right and tight.”

“I think we’re already reconnecting since we’re literally inside each others’ bodies,” Brock adds, his new voice now taking on a harsher tone as well, one he hadn’t heard Jose use since their breakup. Brock instantly regrets how cutting he sounds, his hurt and confusion taking over in the moment, but Jose continues before he can apologize.

“I know what’s been going on. Who you think’s been looking after your overgrown Maple tree of a body,” Jose retorts. “But don’t worry, once we switch out you can get right back on Grindr and flirt with whoever you want. Though you might wanna ditch them pictures of us you got on the fridge, don’t wanna be giving trade the wrong message.”

Jose can see the embarrassment appear on his on face, just as Brock can see the ache and defeat on his own, even through a mask of anger. Jose watches Brock tug at the necklace that he hadn’t noticed initially, chiseling away ever so slightly at the wall around his heart.

“That app is on your phone too, as well as almost every other gay man’s phone if we checked,” Brock reasons, sounding more desperate than Jose expected. “And did you even look at the messages? Most of them are race chasers or so unbelievable that I just have to put a stop to it. One guy thought he was complimenting me by telling me I looked like the Situation.”

“That scrub from Jersey Shore?” Jose asks, his severe tone gone and replaced with one of bright curiosity. “Shit, that ain’t no kinda compliment. And you way hotter than his busted ass even on your worst day.”

“Thanks Papi, nice to know I still got it,” Brock replies with a grin, clearly flattered by Jose’s comment.

Jose can feel a smile forming on his own lips as the tension between them starts to dissipate.

Brock takes a deep breath and continues, “And I’m sorry about the pictures. I didn’t think you’d ever find out about them since I didn’t expect you to be visiting me in Nashville. But making you uncomfortable is the last thing I want to do,” Brock says genuinely. “And I like having them around but if you want me to take them down or,” Brock pauses and swallows, and Jose can see how difficult this is for him. “Get rid of them, then I can do that. For you.”

“Nah, I couldn’t have you do that,” Jose reassures him. He can see his body sag as Brock releases a sigh of relief. “Besides, that’d be too hypocri-, hypocratic,” Jose sees the grin on his own face that is usually reserved for when he looks at Brock and he starts to understand how Brock is feeling. “Bitch I’d be one hell of a dark ass pot coming for your kettle since I gots some pictures of you too,” Jose finishes joyfully.

“I know, I saw,” Brock says both smugly and shyly. “I liked them.”

“Yeah?” Jose questions tentatively.

“Mmm-hmm,” Brock nods. “And I like that you brought this with you to Vegas,” Brock teases as he shows off the necklace. 

Jose huffs in mock offense, “You know Imma sentimental bitch. Just can’t throw anything away.”

“Is that so?” Brock questions disbelievingly as he tries to hide his growing smirk.

“Sure is. And what about you Queen of the North Pole. Why you be hangin’ our pictures up on the fridge like they some child’s art project?”

Jose can see Brock falter and knows he has him right where he wants him. “They’re still nice pictures,” Brock tries to reason. “We-, you-, I look good in them. And I still want to keep the memories.”

“Is that why your passcode’s still my birthday Toes?” Jose asks incredulously. Brock clears his throat and attempts to look away as Jose’s smirk widens. 

“Why don’t we focus on how this happened before we start analyzing each other,” Brock replies, undeniably trying to change the topic.

“Okay, okay I’ll leave it for now Miss Thing. But only ‘cause we got bigger shit to worry about. Now, what time you go to bed last night?”

“A little after eleven. Why?” Brock asks confused.

“‘Cause I wanna know your sleep cycle,” Jose answers sarcastically and playfully rolling his eyes. “I don’t know ‘bout you but I don’t remember going to bed lookin’ like a lumberjack.”

“Hey,” Brock challenges. “Better than going to bed a chihuahua.”

“Bitch, I’m a Yorkie and you know it,” Jose quips as they both break into a fit of giggles. “But for real, I went to bed around then too.”

“What were you thinking about before you went to sleep?”

“Um…shit,” Jose starts and Brock recognizes the look of embarrassed and insecurity on his face, a look that he has seen on himself far too many times. “Don’t laugh,” Jose warns. “And I’m only telling you this for the greater good and to get my ass back in my own body, but…I was thinking ‘bout you.”

Jose sees his eyes go wide and hears Brock release a slight gasp that he quickly tries to cover up. “Really?” Brock questions timidly.

“Yeah,” Jose softly replies.

“I was thinking about you too,” Brock admits.

“For real?” Jose asks intrigued.

“Yes,” Brock confirms before taking another breath. “I was thinking about you, and us, and what it would’ve been like having each other and being together during all this and…”

“And how it’s been forever since we last seen each other in the flesh and now with the way shit’s going who knows when that’ll be,” Jose finishes.

“How did you…?”

“I was thinking the same damn thing boo…and missing your ass like crazy.”

“Me too,” Brock reveals. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

Jose blushes and purses his lips together, trying and failing to contain his delighted grin. “Well looks like we both feeling some typpa way. Why didn’t you call?” Jose asks seriously.

“Why didn’t you?” Brock counters.

“I don’t know,” Jose admits. “‘Cause you know I be all up in my feelings most of the time. What if I hit you up and it turns out it’s just me?”

“Well I think this proves that clearly it isn’t,” Brock says with a laugh. “To think we were pining for each other so much that…”

“That we fucking wound up in each others’ bodies. That some cosmic romance destiny type shit if you ask me. Looks like the universe is trying to tell us something. What you think Toes?”

“I have to say it?” Brock shyly questions.

“Imma need you to baby. I need to hear it, I need to know.”

“Maybe we’re supposed to try again,” Brock answers, looking hopefully at Jose who’s eyes are shining back at him. “I don’t think fate could make it any clearer than this.”

“This did solve the issue of me craving that Canadian bacon,” Jose jokes, with a sparkle in his eyes. He might be in Brock’s body but Brock can see every bit of flirty Jose coming through. “Bitch one minute I’m dreaming ‘bout that body, next minute I’m all up in it.” 

After realizing what he just said, Jose’s cheeks instantly heat up and Brock smirks at how easily Jose is affected by the topic of sex. 

“What were you dreaming about big guy?” Brock asks smugly as he watches he cheeks turn even more pink. “You still have my body after all, what would you like to do with it?” 

“Been thinking ‘bout everything,” Jose admits as if he’s brought back to a fantasy. “Feeling your toned as stone abs rubbing against me cause we so damn close while those big ass hands of yours grab at whatever they can reach.” Brock watches as Jose starts rubbing under his shirt as he describes it.

“Show me,” Brock mutters, unsure of what he’s asking to see.

Jose takes his shirt off and Brock sees his own defined and slightly hairy chest as Jose continues to caress it, his eyes closing.

“What you been,” Jose swallows back a moan. “What you been thinking ‘bout doing with me.”

Brock bites his lip. “Been thinking about your thighs Papi,” he begins, already half hard. “How thick and strong they are when you wrap them around me and refuse to let go. Like I belong to you.”

“You do,” Jose replies intensely and slightly short of breath, one hand still feeling his chest, twisting a nipple, the other now in his pants. “You mine.”

“And you’re mine,” Brock groans, his own hand moving down to grab himself but realizing what he was touching belonged to Jose.

“I love having your soft hands stroke me,” Brock moans as he touches himself with Jose’s hands. “Unh, and it’s been too long since I’ve touched you,” he states, pleasure coiling through him as he strokes Jose’s stiffness that is now his own.

“I-I didn’t need no reminding ‘bout how good your dick is,” Jose replies. “But it definitely nice having the real thing.”

“You missed my cock?” Brock asks, too turned on to be embarrassed by his bluntness.

“Unh, lost count of how many times I got off thinking ‘bout you fucking me,” Jose reveals as he grabs himself tighter. “You biting at my neck through them pillowy lips as you, uh, as you fucking wreck me.”

“Fuck, Jose,” Brock pants as he pulls off the beanie to run his hands through his hair, pulling at it slightly, imagining he’s actually doing it to the man on screen.

“Let me see myself,” Jose begs. “Wanna see you touching me.”

Brock immediately takes his shirt off revealing Jose’s now glistening chest. He leans the phone on the coffee table as he stands up and slowly removes his sweatpants. Brock sees Jose watching him, his fingers brushing his thighs as he kicks the pants off. Grabbing the phone again, Brock angles it down to his hardness while his free hand moves from his thighs to grasp a handful of Jose’s ass that now belongs to him. 

Brock hears a whine and glances back to the phone screen to see Jose pulling off his own pants and grabbing at his bulge. Brock groans at the realization that he and Jose are both getting off on the strangeness and the hotness of watching themselves get turned on.

“I fantasized about this ass baby,” Brock tells him as he digs his fingers even harder into the flesh, hoping to leave marks for when Jose is back in his body. “Even when I knew I shouldn’t. Even when I thought you hated me.”

“Ain’t never hated nothing ‘bout you,” Jose responds as they both keep touching themselves anywhere they can. “I was just pressed knowing you was out there, unh, and that I could look but couldn’t touch.”

“Seems like now you’re touching all you want,” Brock grins as Jose rolls his eyes at Brock’s snark before closing them again. “And I always wanted you,” Brock admits as he slows his ministrations, edging closer and closer. “Even when my brain tried to stop me, your pull was just too strong.”

“Shit,” Jose gasps. “You my magnet Brock. Always have been, always will be.” Brock can tell Jose is getting close and he can feel himself barely hanging on. “ We always find our way back.”

“It’s gonna work this time,” Brock swears as he starts to pant and his stomach starts to flutter. “You’re too good to let go.”

At that the build up is too strong to resist and they both finally let go, closing their eyes and surrendering their bodies to absolute pleasure. Brock is first to open his eyes and sees that he’s back in his own apartment. He attempts to catch his breath and can hear Jose trying to do the same. Brock looks down at his phone to see Jose peering back at him with an expression of warmth, fondness, and nervous understanding that he knows mirrors his own.

“Guess we trying again?” Jose asks hesitantly but hopefully. “Cause I don’t know if I can take anymore of this Freaky Friday shit.”

“Looks like we are,” Brock replies with a grin that he sees returned on Jose’s face. “Since it was nice being with your body, but I know I’d rather be with you.”


End file.
